♦Smoake♦
by Suta La Wolf
Summary: Jak finds a strange creature which we know as a dragon in Haven Forest and as it grows up, he discovers that the creature isn't just some mute, helpless lizard...it has feelings and can speak...and is also growing at a remarkable rate... [ch. 4 revamped]
1. Discovery

Well here's chapter one for ya…it's not that long, but future chapters will, hopefully, be longer. I gave up on meh other story…ya, the self-insert, and recently read the books Eragon and Eldest and I LOVED them…thus out comes this story:

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The ear-shattering sound of Jak's zoomer exploding invaded the aforementioned's hearing as he was flung off the vehicle and into the building of a nearby business, small bits of debris bouncing off his mech suit.

_Damn it, I need to focus_, he thought as he picked himself up, wincing as he held his now broken arm and struggling to keep his sleep-deprived eyes opened.

"Great job Jak, just great, that's probably the fifth one toni-hey Jak…buddy? You okay?" the vibrantly colored ottsel waved a furry hand in front of his companion's face.

"Yeah, just gimme a second here," the blonde answered as he bent over double, trying to catch his breath.

"Okay, we're almost there," Jak took out his jetboard and began weaving in and out of pedestrians and, in his inability to keep his eyes open, hit a few of the ones that were too slow to get out of the way.

After a few minutes and a couple shortcuts, Jak strode into headquarters. Torn began to question him about his latest mission, but Jak didn't pay any attention as he flopped down onto a bed, every muscle felt as though it weighed a hundred pounds.

He'd been awake for nearly 82 hours now and wasn't going to let anybody keep him from sleep, not even Torn, that lanky ex Krimzon Guard Commander.

When Torn began to raise his voice to get his attention and give him another mission, Jak told him very politely to shut the hell up and go stick a twig up his ass before letting blackness claim him, his arm throbbing.

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Jak blinked confusedly in the dim light before gaining his bearings and realizing he was on one of the bunks at headquarters, his head resting on a soft, if itchy, pillow.

"Jak?" came Daxter's voice.

"Yeah, I'm awake," Jak answered, raising an unbandaged arm to rest on his goggle-less

forehead, he assumed Daxter had taken his headgear off.

"You feel okay Jak?"

Jak took note of the shakiness and the worry in Daxter's voice and he sat up, noting the sores on his back.

"Yeah, I'm definitley better than before,why?"

"Well you've been out for almost a week now," the one with the fur said, bringing with it a look of disbelief on Jak's face.

"A _week_?"

"Yeah"

"Oh crap, well then who has Torn been sending out for missions?" Jak asked.

"There were a few who I saw, but he didn't give them anything big, he's been berating himself for driving his best man so hard," Daxter said.

Jak stood up, grappled with gravity for a moment, then got dressed, wondering who had stripped him down to his boxers; he didn't really care that it had been done, as he liked to sleep that way anyways.

Fully dressed with clothes, armor, left forearm splint, and ottsel on shoulder a few minutes later, Jak cautiously walked through the door to the main room, where he found Torn poring over a map, his tattoed face screwed up in concentration. Unsure whether or not he would be in trouble for being asleep so long, Jak cleared his throat warily.

Torn lifted his head from the tedious work.

"You feelin' better, sleeping beauty?" he asked, worry tainting his comical statement.

"Yeah, you have any missions?" Jak asked, coming to the front of the wooden desk.

"Yes, I need you to go out to Haven Forest and-" Torn proceeded to explain the mission, obviously glad that Jak hadn't sustained any permanent injuries.

_Something about the forest and destroying 'heads…alright_, Jak thought as he headed out the door and nabbed a parked zoomer for easy transport to the forest, being sure to keep any weight off his left arm; Daxter's quips keeping him amused as usual.

Once there, he took a moment to absorb the natural environment, he loved the forest, it reminded him of Sandover. Striding forward, he took out his morph gun and got it into as a best a ready position as he could with only one functioning arm.

He kept walking forward, talking with Daxter quietly and keeping an eye out for any metalheads that decided to ambush.

Jak suddenly whirled around as the sound of rustling bushes reached his sensitive ears. Daxter fell silent and prepared to yell and give useless directions as soon as Jak started firing. Morph gun pointed directly at the bush, Jak took a step forward cautiously.

When nothing else happened he lowered his gun slightly.

"You heard the bush move, right Dax?"

"Yeah buddy, don't worry, you ain't insane just yet"

"Gee thanks, that's one thing I've always wanted off my chest"

"No proble-JAK!" Daxter jumped and almost fell over backwards off Jak's shoulder as a white ball streaked out from the bush and into a neighboring clump of weeds.

"Shoot it! Quick, before it attacks!"

Jak, recovering from the scare, raised his gun again and strode toward the clump of weeds.

"What was that?" Jak asked.

"Oh…I dunno…maybe…hmmm," Daxter pretended to think hard, "…A METALHEAD!"

"No, I've never seen a metalhead that could move half as fast as that," Jak said as he bent over and peered in between the green stalks.

A small, white-scaled lizard-like creature with black claws that were way too big for the its size stood at Daxter-height on all fours. Shaking, the creature unfurled small, jetblack wings and made a pathetic, but determined noise deep in its throat, baring miniscule fangs and snorting smoke.

"That is _not_ a metalhead…" came Daxter's voice as he hopped off Jak's shoulder and onto the soft grass.

"Is that…is it…what the hell?" Jak asked unfinished questions in his confusion.

"Careful Dax, it'll bite you," Jak warned as Daxter reached out a fuzzy paw to touch the small animal.

With a quick swipe, the creature took a chunk out of Daxter's thick glove with one of its sharp black claws, hissing and backing away.

"You stupid lizard…I'll show you what for!" Daxter shouted at the creature but made no move to carry out his threats.

"Daxter! It's frightened!" Jak scooped up the indignant ottsel and set him back on his shoulder.

Seeing the creature so frightened at being trapped with nowhere to go reminded Jak of being in prison and he felt for the creature. Giving Daxter a firm command to keep his mouth shut, Jak moved closer to the creature, being sure to avoid its fangs.

"Its okay little guy," he cooed, "I won't hurt you"

"You won't?" Daxter asked.

"Shut up Dax…shhh now, you're okay, come here little one," Jak lowered the tone of his voice.

The creature cocked its head at Jak's change of voice, shut its mouth over its fangs and eventually settled its black-webbed wings over its back that had wave-shaped ridges all the way down to its tail.

As Jak continued with his gentle coaxing, the creature slowly moved toward him. Every time it took one step too close for its taste, it'd sit up tall and arch its neck as though mending its pride.

_Why the heck is Jak doing this? I've haven't seen him be this gentle to something since Sandover,_ Daxter contemplated his friend's behavior silently.

The creature finally flicked its tail disdainfully, took the last few steps toward Jak and wrapped itself around his leg, making deep mewing noises and plainly asking to be picked up.

Jak obliged, wrapping his muscular arms protectively around the creature's small form, his fingers sliding over the smooth scales that covered its body. It weighed almost nothing at all, despite its tough outer look. The creature hissed briefly at Daxter before settling itself into Jak's chest.

"What is it, do ya think?" Jak inquired.

Daxter sniffed, crossing his arms.

"OH, come on. You can't possibly be jealous of it!" Jak said, laughing silently so as not to disturb the now sleeping creature.

"It tried to bite me and your cradling it like its your firstborn son!" Daxter retorted, "Though it is kinda cute I suppose…" Daxter's eyes watched the creature.

Jak rolled his eyes as he went over to the bush that had originally rustled and caught his attention.

"Uh, Jak, bud…headquarter's are thatta way," Daxter said, pointing.

"I know, I just wanna see something," Jak crouched by the bush, moved some long blades of grass away with a gloved hand to reveal what looked the remains of a large, black and white mottled egg. Miniscule bits and pieces of the shell surrounded largest semi-circle piece.

"Its newborn, then, whatever it is," Jak stated.

"Yeah, yeah, right…lets go back now Jak, I'm hungry and it looks like the creature's scent drove away whatever metalheads were here before," Daxter glanced around, making sure that there were, indeed, no metalheads.

"Alright," Jak said, putting his morph gun back in its holder on his back and cradling the creature with his left arm; the creature was oddly and distinctly warm and the warmth helped soothe Jak's broken forearm.

Within a few minutes, Jak, Daxter and the creature reached the edge of the forest. The creature had begun a sort of deep humming in its sleep that rattled and vibrated Jak's ribcage soothingly. Jak knew Daxter felt it as well when he glanced over at his left shoulder and saw the furry ottsel with his eyes half closed.

_Oh boy, Torn's gonna be real happy with me…bringing home stray animals._

Suddenly the humming stopped and a thought intruded upon Jak's mind:

•Jaaaak…?• came the almost questioning little voice inside Jak's head. 

"What!" Jak asked nobody in particular, stopping just outside the forest.

"Hmmm?" Daxter asked confusedly as he was broken from the stupor that had come over him when the creature had begun humming.

•Jak• 

"Nevermind Dax"

_Maybe if I think my response…_, Jak concentrated, _Yes? Who are you?_

The creature started humming abruptly again, sending Daxter into a relaxed daze and vibrating Jak's chest.

•Jaaaaak…• came the satisfied answer. A thought then occured to Jak…_It's the creature_…

Jak stared down at the creature with amazement as he hopped onto his jet board and began weaving in and out of the people, holding the creature even closer. Half because he knew he had to hide it from view of passersby…half because he somehow felt that talking to the creature through his thoughts had made them one, and he now felt an almost intimate relationship between himself and the creature.

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Okay readers, that was chapter one…how'd ya like it? Reviews are loved and will be cherished. Flame if you'd like…you'll just be ignored…or beaten…or blown up…or…nevermind, just review!


	2. Smoake

Okay, another chapter...and cookies for all who reviewed...

Suta hands out cookies to reviewers

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Jak came to a sliding stop just around the corner from headquarters and hopped off his jetboard. Daxter yawned as though awaking from a long nap and sleepily asked where they were.

"Just outside headquarters, I don't think we should show Torn the creature just yet," Jak answered the drowsy ottsel. The creature raised its head from the crook of Jak's arm and sighed, smoke trailing from its nostrils.

Jak was in the process of hiding the creature under his shirt despite its indignant squeaks and smug looks from Daxter, when it occurred to him that he didn't know whether it was male or female. He flipped it onto its back gently…yep, it was a male…before stuffing it under his tough-materialed shirt.

Jak strode in through the door to headquarters, holding his morph gun across his chest casually.

"He-hey webface! We have returned…and not a single metalhead left behind!" Daxter called out, making it sound as though he and Jak had done exactly what they were supposed to, instead of collecting strange animals.

Torn turned around just in time to groan as Daxter slid down Jak's arm and hopped onto his desk, spewing papers everywhere.

"So I guess it went well," Torn met Jak's gaze," I don't have anything else that needs doing 'til the morning, so you can go ahead and crash for the night if you want."

_He's going easy on me after what happened…fine by me…I need a shower and I'd better find this thing something to eat_, Jak felt the creature squirm slightly and he bit his tongue in order to keep himself from laughing as the creature poked its snout into his sensitive ribcage.

"Okay, I think I'll do just that," Jak answered as he gave Torn a brief nod of the head and walked through a door to the back rooms; Daxter following and allowing Torn to clean up the mess he had made.

Once the door was safely shut, Jak allowed the creature to crawl up his chest and poke its head out the collar under his chin. It sniffed the air interestedly.

"Do ya _have_ to keep it?" Daxter asked as he eyed the creature.

"Daxter! It's a baby. I can't just leave it out there to die…and besides, it…well, it spoke to me," Jak answered, pulling the small animal out of his shirt and setting it down on the nearest bed carefully.

"I didn't hear it talk! When did this happen? And besides, _I_ talk to you every day," Daxter said, throwing himself down onto a bed and placing his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles.

"No…no, that's not what I meant. It…he, spoke to me through his thoughts," Jak sat on the bed next to the creature and watched as he crawled around on the bed awkwardly, occasionally sneezing when a puff of dust would arise in front of his face.

"What?" Daxter sat up, genuinely interested this time, "so you heard this message or whatever inside your head?"

"Yeah, and I concentrated on an answer back and it must've received it because it gave me this sort of satisfied answer and fell back asleep," Jak reached out a hand and slowly began stroking the creature's triangular shaped head, "only we didn't exactly have a conversation, it just sort of sighed out my name over and over."

Daxter watched Jak stroke the small creature, his face muscles stretched taught in a plain look of jealousy. Jak glanced up at Daxter and held back an open laugh.

"Daxter!" Jak bit his lip against a torrent of mirth, "this strange creature isn't going to cause me to abandon you like an old toy," Daxter blinked," you're my lifelong friend and nothing's gonna change that."

Daxter sighed and leapt from his bed and into Jak's lap, "Alright, alright, buddy, I'll cut ya some slack, though it _would_ be nice to like, ya know, see you smile every now and then. And I haven't heard much laughter since you got out of that damned prison either."

"Okay, okay," Jak gave real laugh that time.

"Hmmm, well I suppose its gotta have a name, right pal?" Daxter looked up at Jak.

Jak watched the creature for a few moments as he spread his wings and glided gracefully onto the floor, where he continued his expedition around the room.

After discarding several names, Jak finally spoke," How 'bout Smoake?"

"Smoake," Daxter appeared to savor the word," I like it!"

•Jak?• came the creature's soft tones.

•Erm, yes?• Jak replied tentatively, it felt so weird to be doing this.

•Jaaak…• a rumbly and content answer.

"It spoke to me again Daxter," Jak told his fuzzy firend.

"Yeah? What'd it say?"

"It just repeated my name over and over again…same as last time."

The creature suddenly stopped and stared up at Daxter in Jak's lap.

•Daxter• came an almost whiplike statement inside Jak's mind again.

•Yes, that's Daxter• Jak told it calmly.

•Daxter…Daaxteer• it said in a tone that suggested that it was trying to decide whether or not the orange ottsel was a predator.

•Daxter's okay…Daxter, erm, good• Jak reassured it.

With a flick of his tail, Smoake resumed exploring, while Jak relayed the "conversation" to Daxter.

"See? It's just frightened of you Dax," Jak smiled," after all, you are pretty intimidating."

"Uh huh," Daxter sniffed Jak and pretended to fall off his lap, staggering around on the floor as though intoxicated from the stench," Oy, buddy, you smell like you've been rollin' around in Yackow puck…go take a shower."

With a good-hearted snort, Jak stood up, stretched and headed down a hall to the showers, leaving Daxter to contemplate whatever his perverted mind liked to contemplate. He stopped short, however, when he heard the sound of small claws clicking on the tile floor behind him. Smoake clicked his way in between Jak's legs and stopped a few feet ahead of him, then twisted his neck around to stare at Jak as if to ask why he had stopped.

With a short-lived laugh, Jak picked up Smoake and strode into the shower area. It was just a bunch of shower heads, spaced every few yards or so, and divided with planks of metal to form stalls, but to Jak it was relief from the day's sweat and grime.

Setting Smoake down to let him explore some more, Jak stripped himself down to his boxers, piled his mech suit and armor on a corner bench, and turned the hot water on.

The second the water streamed down to plink and splash on the floor, Smoake ran into it, snapping at the droplets and rolling around in the puddles that formed on the floor. Jak's eyes gleamed as he watched the creature's innocent playing. He removed his last garment, threw it in the corner, and stepped into the stream, the water cascading down his sore muscles and soothing them.

Smoake entwined himself with Jak's ankles, lay down, and began humming contentedly again, not even minding when the soap and shampoo fell in plops on his shiny white scales.

A few minutes later, Jak entered the bunk room, fully dressed, and set a wet Smoake down on the floor. Jak glanced out a tiny window next to the bed he usually slept in and saw that it was already dark; but dark storm clouds brewed, toiled and massed closer with every passing second in the not too far off horizon. Daxter had already hit the sack, completely oblivious to the storm.

•Hungry•

Catching Smoake in mid-jump to prevent him from getting the beds wet, Jak rubbed him with a towel.

•Okay, stay here• Jak dropped the towel, disappeared outside the door and followed another hall down to the empty kitchen. He grabbed some bits of smoked meat and found a water bottle before returning to the bedroom.

Upon re-entry, Smoake jumped up onto Jak's chest and clung there with his claws, snuffling the pockets that concealed the food.

Jak disentangled Smoake's claws from the front of his shirt, pausing for a second to marvel at the shiny black texture they had, and set him down on the bed next to Daxter. He tossed a bit of meat to Smoake and watched as he caught it with a quick snap of a fang-laden jaw. Jak continued to toss the meat, each time increasing the difficulty, throwing it up high, where Smoake had to leap with a swift flap of the wing to catch the morsel, and throwing it fast, which required a dash to the right or left.

With a contented sigh, Smoake announced that he was done after he had snatched the water bottle from Jak and drank all of the contents.

Jak gave Smoake a gentle pat on the head before climbing into bed next to Daxter, who awoke and drowsily climbed onto Jak's chest. Daxter fell back into a deep sleep even before he had flopped back down on Jak, muttering incoherently. Smoake leapt gracefully onto the bed, gave Daxter a cautious sniff, and curled up on Jak's legs.

Jak slipped into dreamland with the assistance of Smoake's soothing humming.

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"JAAAAK!" it was unmistakably the roar of a very angry Torn.

Jak was jolted awake and he rolled to the side in a jerking motion, involuntarily falling out of bed.

"Jak! You've got a bit of explaining to do!" Torn came stomping into Jak's bunkroom, holding up a squirming Smoake by the tail.

A violent flash of lightning lit up Torn's red face, his eyes ablaze with anger and a hint of betrayal.

"I found him yesterday in Haven Forest," Jak spit out the truth, knowing it wouldn't do any good to lie, especially not to someone who had a dagger at his hip.

Torn grabbed the collar of Jak's shirt and hauled him to his feet, holding Jak's face at eye-level; Jak's toes just barely reached the floor. Jak swallowed as his face gave away whatever fear he had been trying to conceal; despite the strong urge to fight back, Jak knew he couldn't win against a seasoned fighter. Just as Jak started to lose oxygen, Smoake defensively spat out a sharp burst of black and white flame, causing Torn to yelp and drop both him and Jak.

Holding his right arm, Torn set his foot on Jak's chest, pinning him down against the floor.

"I…don't…give a damn what you…do with it, just keep it away from me," Torn hissed before kicking Jak in the face, causing his head to connect painfully with the hard, metal floor with a sickening noise, and stalking away.

Daxter leapt down from the bed and wiped some blood away from Jak's mouth with a worried expression plastered on his face.

"You okay buddy? I'm surprised he didn't kill you on the spot"

"I know, I suppose I got off easy," Jak sat up and spat a mouthful of blood out onto the floor; he had bit his tongue when Torn had kicked his chin. He wiped some blood away from his mouth and watched the red liquid drip down his hand for a moment.

Smoake hissed and curled his body around Daxter's feet, who glanced down at him with a surprised expression.

•Jak?•

•It's okay, it's just a bit of blood•

•Blood?• Jak held out the hand that he had used to wipe the blood off his mouth and Smoake stretched out his graceful neck to sniff it curiously.

•Jak blood?•

•Yes, my blood• Jak heaved a sigh and got up from the floor, rubbing his temples.

"We'd better grab whatever sleep we can while it's still dark," Jak fell back onto a bed and waited as both Smoake and Daxter crawled in next to him.

Jak lay awake for another good half hour, after the other two had fallen asleep, thinking about what he would do in the morning. Worry and anticipation grabbed at him until he felt his brain being pushed in from all sides, causing the uncomfortable impression that someone was pressing on his skull with increasing pressure.

With a shivering sigh, he mentally let go of these degrading thoughts and allowed himself to fall into a fitful sleep, his dreams full of Smoake yelling at Torn for bringing a stray metalhead home and Daxter hanging up posters that read 'Lost Creature'.


	3. A Bit of the Past

Eeeeeeee! I'm so pleased with all the reviews I got! I apologize profusely for not updating in, like 4 months…but I had finals and then my high school took a trip up to the mountains, which was a blast, by the way.

Jak: I'm not sure I actually fit in that duffel bag of yours…you couldn't have smuggled me onto the bus instead?

Suta:Nonsense…:continues drawing Jak as chibi:

Jak:WHY do you draw me like that? That's not even what I look like!

Suta:Eh, it's for the fans…they say you're adorable like this

Jak:I hate fangirls

Suta:But not me, right?

Jak:I suppose :looks other way quickly:

Suta:locks Jak in closet: Anyways…I'll let you all be and read chapter three…aaaand, oh! I almost forgot…go check out my profile and click on the link to Deviantart(dot)com…it'll take you straight to my deviously deviant homepage and you can see my perty pictures –bounces about in overly hyper mood-

Jak:bangs on door…door falls off hinges:

Suta:Erm…I love you? Uhhh, very much…:shrinks:

Jak:rants about in rage:

Suta:OH! Yeah…almost forgot again…I got a review asking how you pronounce Smoake's name, well here ya go….Smo-wuk (the "o" is long, by the way)….Now I must go calm The Beast…. :attempts to subdue Jak:

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A soft light coaxed the sleeping blonde into consiousness and he slowly opened his eyes. He raised his head and looked down his front to see Smoake yawning and stretching on his chest, right next to the sleeping pile of orange fur.

Pushing Daxter off of him gently, he staggered out of bed. Smoake leapt to the floor and stared up at him as he made his way across the room, cold tile piercing his bare feet, and stood in front of the mirror, jaw awry as he surveyed his rather disheveled appearance.

His usually wind-blown hair stood up on odd places and clumps fell down into his eyes, the effect making him appear to be like a big golden crocadog puppy. His goggles had slipped from their usual perch around his forehead to hanging loosely around his neck.

His face showed the years of abuse that he had acquired while in the Haven City Prison, courtesy of Erol and Baron Praxis; this gave the impression that he was a golden crocadog puppy that had been kicked too many times. Cheeks and nose, rosy from the cold, contrasted with his sharpish features.

Yawning, he turned, nearly tripped over Smoake, and headed to the corner so he could slip on his mech shirt and begin layering his armor back on.

Smoake watched interestedly, his tail slowly twisting this way and that, like a must ready to pounce.

Daxter sat up on the bed, grabbed Jak's arm and scuttled up it as Jak passed the bed to slip through the door quietly, Smoake close at his metal heels.

Torn was asleep over his paper-filled desk, a small piece of green paper fluttered every time he exhaled.

Jak slipped out the door and into the foggy street. The fog would prevent anyone from catching a good look at Smoake for a good couple of hours, so Jak let him romp about his feet silently.

Hopping onto his jetboard, Jak let himself balance on the hovering metal board and stretch, his back arched in the cold air and stretched certain muscles in a way that woke him up. Leaning over, Jak caught Smoake by the tail and dragged him backwards so he could pick him 'round the belly.

Daxter, who didn't usually have anything to say until he was fully awake, grinned at this. A biting wind began to whip through his fur and chill him to the marrow as they gained speed.

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Jak let his weight fall backwards slightly and slowed his jetboard down to a crawl as he inhaled the scent of Haven Forest. Hopping off the machine, he tucked it behind his back as Smoake crouched, preparing to spring into the air. He flapped his wings awkwardly, sliding off Jak's shoulder sideways and batting his long ears in the process; but finally taking off into a clumsy flight to the nearest and lowest tree branch.

"Where're you gonna keep him?" Daxter hopped off Jak's shoulder-plate and walked a few steps off to the right, his ottsel feet crunching the near-frozen grass. He placed his paws on his hips and looked up at his best friend.

"He's gonna have to stay here, I suppose," Jak looked up at Smoake, who was attempting, and failing miserably, to pounce upon a bird, which hopped out of his way at the last possible second each time he pounced.

With a frustrated growl, Smoake finally caught the bird in a puff of agitated feathers.

Daxter grimaced, "Looks like he won't have any problem with food."

"Yeah," Jak answered absent-mindedly, he was staring intently at a vine that grew up and twisted itself around a tree to his left. The stalk of the plant was a lightning blue and the way it wrapped itself up the tree made it look as if the tree were alive with pulsing, blue veins. Small, black flowers bloomed here and there on the vine, like cups of death that held the plant's very existence.

"Jak? Hello?" Daxter jumped up Jak's arm, onto his shoulder and rapped on his friend's head sharply, "Anybody home? Haven City Forest to Jak!"

"Ouch, I'm here, I'm here…" Jak pulled his head away from Daxter's knocking knuckles and pretended to not be spacing out. Pretended to not be lost in his own mind; pretended that he wasn't brooding on dark thoughts; pretended to not be scared of what the future held; pretended to not be afraid that the next mission would be his last, that each passing second wasn't something he had to struggle through.

Up above, Smoake glanced down and watched them, his tail hanging loosely over the branch.

"No, you're not," Daxter stated plainly as he stared into his friend's deep, oceanic eyes, "Jak? Come on buddy, what's up? It's just me, Daxter…remember? Remember the one who you told everything about? The one who you blabbered on about this and that, the cool bird you saw, how cute you thought Kiera was, where you wanted to go, if you were hurting or not. And all without ever saying a single word? Jaaak, talk to me."

"It's...nothing," Jak looked down and stared at his boots like a seven year old caught in the act of taking the cookie from the jar.

"Uh huh," Daxter flicked his ear playfully and when this still didn't illicit a response from Jak, he added, "Is it when…in the prison?"

The very sentence came out of Daxter's mouth abstractedly, but Jak followed his train of thought, as he always did.

Jak slowly let his gaze wander up and into the ottsel's light blue eyes. He took a deep breath, "Yeah."

It was spoken softly, but still managed to hold all the meaning in the world.

Smoake blinked overhead and leapt down from his perch to land on Jak's shoulder. Jak jumped violently and leapt to the side erratically as if to dodge a metalhead attack and hit his shoulder on the tree with the strange vine heavily.

He growled as his injured arm hit the trunk. Daxter sent a heavy glare to Smoake, who returned the glare carefully and wrapped himself around Jak's neck. A thrumming sound soonbegan to emanate from Smoake.

Jak didn't get up from where he sat against the tree and Daxter didn't coax him out of his reverie. He just curled up in Jak's lap and tried to keep him from slipping too far into his thoughts. Every once in a while he'd a comment to Jak to make sure he didn't lose himself in his mind.

Smoake seemed to feel that the best thing he could do at the time was to keep thrumming and soothing Jak with his soft music.

•Jaaaaaaak• Smoake sang to him over and over, recoiling briefly whenever he brushed too close to Dark's conscience.

After an hour of this show of silent support from Smoake and not-so-silent Daxter, Jak finally had the strength to get up and leave.

"Thanks," was all Jak could manage, but sometimes less is much, much more.

Smoake obediently picked a spot in the tree that he could nest in and stayed behind while Jak and Daxter zoomed off on the former's jetboard toward whatever mission an angry Torn may have in mind to throw at them.

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The following three weeks showed just how different Smoake was from the other animals that inhabited Haven City, and most certainly from the crude metalheads.

He ran through a growth spurt that had his body tripling it's size; Smoake's back was level with Jak's chin. His white scales grew from a dull, blank white to a dazzling sheen of white scales that, when caught in certain light, radiated a transparent flurry of color. The webbing on his wings went from a leathery, murky black to a pure black color that looked to be an almost midnight blue when held up against the light. His claws acquired a deadly gleam to them and started to form a serrated edge on the inside curve. His clear, black eyes gained the experienced look of a hunter.

The almost daily visits from Jak and Daxter broadened his vocabulary so that he no longer had to revert to simple words to try and make them understand, but could talk with each of them without having to think about it beforehand. His frustration at having to remain hidden grew with each passing day. And he made sure that his only contact to whatever was happening outside of Haven Forest knew about it.

•Jak! I can't stay here forever…someone's going to stumble upon me sooner or later. And I can't stand the thought of you going out on all these missions and coming back with injuries that could've been prevented if I had been there. The hate you feel for the Baron is strong and since I am linked with you mentally, whether you like it or not, my own hate seed for the Baron is growing.•

•Torn wants you hidden until absolutely necessary…he sees you as a valuable tool to the Underground but apparently he's waiting until…until…well I don't know what he's waiting for, but if he's lead this rebellion against the Baron for this long, he must have a good reason for not using such a good weapon just yet•

•So now I'm a weapon? A dead, cold gun that can go into storage until it's needed?• Smoake twisted his neck around to look at Jak, who was sitting on his back while Smoake meandered through the forest. As had become one of their customary rituals whenever he and Daxter came to see Smoake.

•I didn't say that• Jak patted the tip of Smoake's nose.

Daxter piped up •Torn's just a big ass is all…can't stand having someone show him up in the area of tactics•

Smoake grinned toothily, his fangs glinting in the dappled patches of light before twisting his head back around and continuing to walk again.

•All we can do right now is wait then…• Smoake sighed, once again losing the rather becomingrepetitive argument.

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Soooooo :twiddles toes:

How was it? I know I didn't really get anywhere storyline-wise, but I wanted to establish where Smoake is staying and his growth spurt and stuff...and I stayed up 'til 11:00 on a schoolnight to write this chapter for you guys, so review damnit! 3 to all my supporters and former reviewers!


	4. Out of Hiding

Hey guys? What is up, eh? OMG…reviews!…I love them, reviews are awesome and they encourage me to do things like stay up until 1:00 on school nights to write out the next chapters for you…XD

Jak:I have nothing to say

Suta:Hmmm, me neither, except that I do not own the original characters from the Jak trilogy…I do, however, own Smoake, Rig and Scor

Jak:Wow…more characters? Getting a little too creative, aren't we?

Suta:Jak you know how capable I am of drawing you in your boxers and posting it all over my site :blinks angelically:

Jak:huff:

Suta:Good boy

Okay, well here goes nothing…

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Two more weeks passed in the ending of Smoake's growth spurt; Smoake's shoulder height amounted two of Jak's height.

His fangs grew to an inch past his chin and his muscles swelled with the constant hunting…Smoake just never could figure out where all the metalheads came from; darned breeding machines they were.

His jewel-like gaze seemed to penetrate whatever Smoake happened to be looking at. His triangular shaped head acquired a sharper look to it, his jaw became squarer and small, hard ridges sprouted above his eyes.

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Smoake crouched slowly, his keen, clearish black eyes focused on one thing: the yackow-sized metalhead in front of him. He allowed his haunches to curl under him slowly…soooo slowly.

He painstakingly moved an inch to the right, his scales a mere hair-width away from scraping the bark off a tree and alerting the metalhead to his presence. Lifting a talon with the patience of someone waiting to die, he set it down in front of him and let his body shift another inch closer. His wings hurt from being pressed so tightly, so closely, to his sides for so long.

He'd been stalking the metalhead for almost an hour. He had almost been ready to pounce, but his left wing had rustled the leaves of a low-hanging branch and he'd had to stay completely and utterly still until the metalhead had gone back to its original relaxed, dullish state.

His head aimed for the metalhead like a poison dart fixed on its target. Smoake resisted the urge to let a thin trail of smoke release from his nostrils because he knew the metalhead would smell it.

His muscles ached from the strain of holding his bulk in such a position for so long, but he had hunted longer than this before.

A shiver of adrenaline suddenly rush through his body as a gunshot rang through the air; he jumped. The metalhead rose its glowing head sharply and stared into the gloom, trying to see what had made the noise.

More erratic shots rang through the forest, and Smoake thought that maybe Jak had been sent on some kind of mission around this part of the forest. But then again, Jak would probably be a better shot than that, Smoake resized his assumption as a bullet whizzed by, not five feet from his tail, and buried itself into the forest's mossy undergrowth.

The metalhead growled and began pacing back and forth, ready to fight whoever came through the bushes, its attention was drawn away from the sound Smoake had made.

Smoake took his chance and sprung forward mightily, his back legs acting as coiled springs that propelled his thin, reptilian body through the air and onto the metalhead with deadly precision. Jaws opening wide, he caught the metalhead in his fangs even before hitting the ground. It was dead in a swiftly sickening crack.

But a small, anguished groan caught Smoake's attention before he could tear into his kill and he snapped his head upwards.

The groan wasn't the retarded growl of a metalhead, nor was it the sound of any animal in pain…Smoake knew those well and he often took pity upon the wounded animal and killed it himself, not that he minded having an easy meal.

But no, the groan wasn't animal-like at all, it was human. Smoake sniffed the air with a few brief snorts.

He could smell it, too…the scent of human was on the air.

But it wasn't Jak's smell, nor Daxter's. Abandoning the dead metalhead, Smoake cautiously took a few steps forward. He tread carefully not because he was afraid…but he knew he still wasn't supposed to be found.

Sniffing again, he strode forward a couple more paces, his long tail twitched to the side and he let a trail of smoke rise from his diamond-shaped nostrils up into the sky.

More shots pierced the forest, the bullets destructively running through the forest. Smoake saw one leaf with a perfect hole exactly through the middle as it swerved down to the ground. Knowing that, sooner or later, the human was either going to shoot him or see him, Smoake leapt over a fallen log and into a clearing.

On the opposite edge lay a male human covered in blood. A nasty gash lay open and bleeding freely on one of his legs. Several smaller, but still painful-looking scratches covered his chest while most of his armor lay scattered about the clearing. A red, leather armguard fell from a tree as the human yelled in fear and scrabbled to back himself against a tree.

An ammo-less gun was less than a foot out of the human's grasp.

Smoake cocked an eyebrow as he surveyed the human, his back to a tree…why did humans always go and get themselves into cornered spots?

He never could figure it out…

Smoake gently, but deliberately, took a step forward, stretching his neck out and inhaling the almighty wreak of blood.

Fear too…the human was scared spitless.

Smoake blinked and took the last few steps forward toward the panicked and desperate figure. Gasping for breath, the human tried to stand, but only accomplished a half-crouch at which point he fell face-forward onto the moss beneath him. Smoake watched silently as the human lay absolutely still.

He didn't know that they could play dead too…

Now towering over him, Smoake reached down and ever so gently nudged the human; he had passed out. Upon closer inspection he saw that his hair was a jet-black and when caught in certain light, gleamed with a dark red…or was that blood? His skintone was a nutbrown and was not patterned with Krimzon Guard tattoos; Jak had told him about those tattoos.

Sighing a deep growl, Smoake grabbed the human by a piece of armor that was hanging halfway off his arm and flipped him over. He had lost too much blood…that much was certain, but without any way to wash off at least some of the blood, Smoake couldn't determine one injury from the next.

He rustled his wings impatiently, unsure of what to do. If he went to get help, someone would see him, and the human would probably breathe his very last if he left him here with so many metalheads around.

The sound of approaching voices ripped him from his thoughtful state.

Uh oh…

Lashing his tail to the left furiously, Smoake ever so gently, like a mother muse with a kitten, grabbed the sleeve of the human and dragged him out of sight. The voices were too close for his liking and he sped up the process of sweeping the armor out of sight with his claw.

A yell suddenly erupted from behind him and he twisted his neck around and saw a figure through the trees, not ten feet from the log he had jumped over to get into the clearing. The pack of voices were in front of him, and one voice, maybe two behind him. Trapped…flying wouldn't do any good, he couldn't get high enough in such a short space of time. The seconds were ticking and Smoake was about to leap off to the left as a human in tan and black clothing, a gun hanging loosely in a left, pale-skinned hand, hopped onto the log.

Smoake swung to face him should he decide to start shooting.

"Oh my-…" the obviously male said He had dreadlocked blue-black hair down to his shoulders.

_Oh, brilliant_, Smoake thought as he sat on his haunches…he was caught, and there wasn't really anything he could do about it now as a group of men, all carrying weapons, burst into the clearing behind him.

"Rig!" one of them shouted to the blue-black dreadlocked human on the log. All of the group prepared their weapons.

"Torn didn't say anything about them being this big!" the speaker sounded like he was about to pee his pants. Smoake lifted the corners of his mouth mischievously. He curled his tail around his front legs neatly, prim as a rose, and stared at the invaders silently.

"Wait!" Rig stopped the men as he jumped from the log and ran over to where Smoake had left the unconscious mangle of a body. Rig lifted the man's head.

"Scor? Hey, man, can you hear me?" Scor fluttered his eyelids and tried to focus on the man called Rig, but he closed them almost immediately. Scor groaned, "Metalheads…ten, twenty, all at once…" Smoake took note of the fact that both men's eyes were black, he had an eye for picking up small details.

The group of men lowered their weapons as they caught sight of their fallen companion, but were too afraid to rush across the clearing, lest Smoake snap them up as an appetizer.

Getting up, Smoake lowered his head so that he was eyelevel with Rig. He looked into the man's soft, black eyes and swished his tail back and forth once. Rig didn't raise his gun or flinch, but stared unblinkingly back at Smoake's penetrating gaze. _Hmmmm_, Smoake raised his head and looked around at the group of men who had dashed across the clearing and were now near Scor on the ground.

"Well…come on men, help me with Scor and we'll report back to headquarters," Rig turned to the group hesitantly, wary of exposing his backside to Smoake.

Smoake sighed, expelling a great trail of smoke from his notstrils. One of the men snapped and shot at Smoake out of fright, the resounding bang not nearly as loud as the silence that followed. He had missed by quite a bit but it annoyed Smoake nonetheless. He growled, getting up and stretching slowly.

"Cease fire, idiot!" Rig turned on his man and eyed Smoake, "Do you _want_ to be attacked by the mutant metalhead?"

Smoake pounded his tail on the ground. He was NOT. All the men froze at Smoake's erratic movement and turned their guns and trained them on Smoake.

"Do not shoot," Rig's voice was strained.

Smoake twisted his tail thoughtfully, this was fun, they thought he was a metalhead. Flaring his nostrils, he considered talking to one of them, Rig maybe…

Jak had been helping him with his voice. But it was unlikely anyone else would understand his spoken speech. His deep growling voice constantly rolled R's and lisped S's like there was no tomorrow. That's why, most commonly, he talked to Jak through his thoughts. Well, he could always try…

Smoake rustled his wings uncertainly and then spoke tentatively, "I am nrrrot a metalheaaad."

Rig stared uncomprehendingly for a minute, then, "You talk?" he whispered, swallowing sharply.

"Yrressss," Smoake snorted again, alarming a few of the guys. He continued, "You arrre with thee undagrrrround, yesss?"

Rig glanced at his companions before answering, "Yeah…yeah, we are."

Smoake growled in affirmation just as another man spoke up.

"Hey…hey, waitaminnut, I heard Torn mumbling about you under his breath once. You had something to do with that blonde and his orange pet, huh? Yeah, I 'member. He said 'damn white scaly better stay hidden'..yeah, he said that, he did," a bald, portly kinda man said.

Smoake let a rolling growl escape his mouth; his way of laughing.

"I doorrn't want to hiddde anymorrre," Smoake hissed, "I want to heelllp."

Crouching down on his front legs, Smoake layed himself down and offered his back so that he could carry the wounded Scor.

"Weell? Corrmme onn, I'll carrrry 'im," Smoake stared at Rig.

Rig shouted orders and his team soon had Scor done up and safely on Smoake's back.

"Um…it's weird, but I mean, I've just never…well thanks," Smoake watched, amused, as Rig tried to thank him.

"Dooon't even…I waant tew," Smoake rumbled as he fell in line behind the men as they headed out.

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Hahahahahahaha! What've I done, you ask? I have unleashed an egomaniacal dragon upon our dear Haven, haven't I? You review, yeah?


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